Dying to Breathe

9.3: blank canvas

Chapter 9, Part 3: Blank Canvas

When Penelope was seven, she walked in on her sister staring at herself in her mirror. It was something Penelope often did and normally Millie would turn around with a big, excited grin—forcing her to stand next to her in the long mirror. Giggling, they would point out all their similarities and differences like a game. They tried to find something new everyday—like the different colour of green their eyes were. Penelope's were a tint or two darker than Millie's. But Penelope especially loved their similarities. She wished she were identical to her bright and beautiful sister.

This time was different. Penelope's presence didn't alert Millie.

As any seven-year-old would, Penelope decided to sneak up on her as she held her breath, trying to be stealthy. Just as she took a step towards her, she suddenly saw exactly what Millie was doing in that long mirror before her. Maybe what she had always been doing before Penelope would interrupt her.

She watched as her sister's face morphed into a bright smile—like the one she regularly wore. Before falling; her expression transforming into one of sadness and pain. And just as quickly, into one of anger. The expressions went on, each one new; each one perfected; each one convincing.

Penelope didn't understand why, but her heart pounded as she watched her sister flicker through all the emotions at random and with impressive speed. It didn't feel right. Her eyes would brighten on commend; dim on command; water on command. Her face would flush, pale, and then brighten again. Even her body would stiffen, loosen, straighten. Every single muscle in her body seemingly controlled.

And then, when Millie was done, her face went slack. Her eyes not their normal bright colour—they were dim, dull, lifeless. They lacked everything that made Millie Millie. She stared at her emotionless face in the quiet room, crooking her head. Lifting a hand to the mirror she touched the glass reflecting her face.

"Happy." Her small voice whispered into the chilling silence.

Her face reminded Penelope of the canvases they would paint on.

Blank.

Blank until someone painted on it with bright or dull colours—painted on Millie's face with bright or dull emotions. And for some reason she couldn't understand, the idea of her sister needing to be painted on in order to smile, chilled Penelope's trembling body as she backed away from the door.

Penelope cut her hair after that. She knew she'd never be able to look just like Millie—because no one knew what Millie looked like. Even Millie herself didn't know. 

A/N : Little bit spooky, Millie... as always.

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